Crashing: Trailer, certificate and where to watch
2016
Certificate: 15
Before Fleabag, Phoebe Waller-Bridge created this six-episode sitcom about a bunch of twentysomethings making their home in the most affordable housing they can find - a disused hospital where they get cheap rent in return for keeping the building safe.
As an ensemble comedy it's a very different animal to the personal, confessional style of Fleabag, but the romantic and sexual chaos and toe-curling scenarios are there, as are the frank dialogue and moments of melancholy. Joining Waller-Bridge are Jonathan Bailey (aka Viscount Bridgerton) and new Bergerac's Damien Molony. (Six episodes)
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Metro
17 hours ago
- Metro
A year on from Baby Reindeer the Edinburgh Fringe gives Netflix middle finger
Last June, the Edinburgh Fringe was put under the microscope in a way it hasn't been for years when Baby Reindeer exploded onto Netflix. In the Emmy award-winning show, comedian Richard Gadd takes audiences through his real-life struggle of finding his big break while being stalked by a woman called Martha. He also detailed his harrowing experience of sexually assault by a nameless comedy industry predator. Through it, Richard – renamed Donny in the series – produced one of the bravest and most successful autobiographical TV shows perhaps ever made. But Baby Reindeer started life as Gadd's Edinburgh Comedy Award-winning Fringe show Monkey See, Monkey Do in 2016. Fleabag producer Francesca Moody then introduced Baby Reindeer to the world via a stage show in 2019. It was only then Netflix picked up Richard's shows and created an amalgamation of the two. Flight of the Concords and The Mighty Boosh originated at the Edinburgh Fringe many moons ago, and Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fringe hit Fleabag is one of the festival's biggest modern successes, released on TV nine years ago and sparking a flurry of one-woman shows. I was curious, therefore, to see whether Baby Reindeer's global success has impacted the Fringe a year on. So I asked performers on the ground what they thought, with a little help from the visionary herself, Francesca Moody. On the Royal Mile, I get blank stares from performers flyering their work. Of course, everyone knows the show and Gadd's name. But many performers at the Fringe don't seem to have thought about Netflix or the BBC skulking the streets. Those who don't have the backing of PRs or an agent are simply trying to survive the month and get more than five people into their shows. Netflix feels 1,000 steps ahead. On a few occasions, the vacant expressions are followed by an explanation that they are performing theatre for theatre's sake. Each is spending roughly £5,000 (booking their venue and accommodation, etc) for the sheer love of it. Sean Wareing from immersive theatre show It's Gonna Blow! tells Metro the Fringe has 'always' been a place to get noticed, so that's naturally in the back of minds. 'People might write shows that could be adapted to Netflix but the main aim is not to get it adapted, it's to get in the room and have a conversation,' he says. Emma Jones, director of one-woman climate change show Single Use, tells me: 'The longevity and success of this play for us doesn't eventuate on screen. Success for us looks like getting our play in print, going on tour and keeping it alive. 'I do understand the want to be on screen because of the exposure and the money. But theatre for theatre's sake is still so crucial. That's why we're here at the Fringe, to keep this show alive.' Francesca Moody took Baby Reindeer, Fleabag and now Weather Girl – which is being adapted for Netflix – to the Edinburgh Fringe and landed them onto our TV screens. What on this good earth is her secret? 'I think the secret is following your gut instincts on things, which doesn't feel like much of a secret, if I'm honest,' she laughs in a chat with Metro, ahead of Francesca Moody Productions' sold-out show Ohio's Edinburgh Fringe run. While she can't predict what exactly will be the next 'big thing', Francesca has some ideas. 'It sort of feels like everything we were talking about in Fleabag times we're talking about again, we're constantly regressing,' she says. 'I think there's a conversation somewhere around that and the commodification of feminism. Also the presentation of ourselves publicly versus privately.' Francesca would also like to see an exploration of reality TV, and within this the capitalisation of real people and their real emotions. 'I think about Love Island or even Traitors… They say something about where we're at as a human race that I think could be quite interesting in theatre,' she says. Contrary to sparking trauma-led, personal comedy shows, Baby Reindeer seemed to simply catch and ride the highest wave of this trend, which started around 2015. Now there's a sense of trauma-porn fatigue in the theatre world, even if Netflix only caught up – or had time to produce the show – years later. Character comedian Laurie Stevens – behind David's One-Man Band (F*ck You, Steven) – tells Metro that the comedy world is finding a different way in to talk about serious, important topics. 'I think the shows that delved into personal issues peaked a couple of years ago and people are rebelling against that by going more abstract, still to explore the same issues,' she says. 'Trauma porn became a kind of buzzword and we've gone sillier, but still to get to the root of things.' Certainly, there's a buzz in the Edinburgh air around character-led comedians as opposed to traditional stand-up. These shows tend to be sillier, while still making salient societal observations. But even traditional stand-ups are rebelling against the Baby Reindeer trauma-led format Netflix seems to be after. With her 2025 show Behold!, Amy Mason intentionally moved away from to-the-bone autobiographical shows she's historically leant towards. 'There's been a shift. We're trauma-ed out. People have realised it's not necessarily great for our mental health unless you've got lots of stuff in place, to relive trauma on stage every day,' she tells Metro at Pleasance Courtyard. 'But also I think there's only so much we can do. There are only so many times people can make a show about certain topics. Especially because there's so much stuff going on in the world, audiences are responding well to silliness.' For Amy, performing a light show every night is a 'joy' – and it's being received well. 'I think the [trauma trend] was about breaking taboos and that was great a few years ago. Then it flipped slightly, it became an expectation on people – especially marginalised people – to always share their trauma in their work,' she says. 'But actually, the permission to just be stupid and talk about silly, light stuff and not necessarily give away loads of yourself is great.' Last year Alex Kitson took his show Must I Paint You A Picture to the Edinburgh Fringe, which told the story of his sexual assault and the suicidal ideation it triggered. 'The show was a success, but some reviews were very dismissive, some seemed shockingly cold in ways I can only assume was caused by 'trauma show' fatigue. One critic said that the bar for sexual assault was low that year, another wrote my story seemed made up,' Alex tells Metro. 'I'm not seeing many people trying to mimic this formula this year. If anything, the opposite. It makes me suspect that, post Baby Reindeer, trauma-based 'comedy' is showing all the signs of going the way of the knock-knock joke.' If anything, the Fringe and Baby Reindeer have changed TV – not the other way around. By the time it launched on Netflix the festival had already moved on. But that's why it's worth keeping an eye out: the Edinburgh Fringe is the eyes, ears and beating heart of our arts and cultural landscape. But with huge costs attached to taking a show to the Edinburgh Fringe – and with working-class artists being priced out – how is it going to stay this way? Can TV start saving theatre, rather than eating it? Francesca Moody, with her acclaimed self-titled production company, says: 'I think historically, there has been a little bit of a 'yoink' mentality of TV coming in, grabbing and taking an artist away from theatre and then making loads of money, but like not really remunerating at that end.' She explains: 'I think we need each other in order to survive. Ultimately, there has to be a bit more cohesion between the different mediums, because the interesting, unusual, knotty, thorny, risky stories and artists are always making work in small scale theatre. That's a place where you can take risks. More Trending 'TV and film need those artists, because that's how interesting murk gets made.' So has the Netflix lure derailed or detoured the Edinburgh Fringe? Not really. If anything Baby Reindeer simply confirmed something we already know, but sometimes need reminded: that the Edinburgh Fringe is packed full of stories worth telling. Got a story? If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you. View More » MORE: 'The Edinburgh Fringe left me bankrupt and homeless – here is my big idea to save it' MORE: 'We are getting married on stage at the Edinburgh Fringe – please come to our wedding' MORE: Brian Cox, 79, cancels national tour after being 'very busy and tired'
Scotsman
2 days ago
- Scotsman
Edinburgh Festival Fringe artist fund challenged for 'violation of open access principles'
Keep It Fringe has distributed £1 million in grants since 2023. Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... The founder of the Free Fringe has lodged a motion against a grant fund operated by the Edinburgh Festival Fringe Society, claiming it goes against the organisation's 'level playing field ethos'. In a movement put forward to the Fringe Society's annual general meeting (AGM), Peter Buckley Hill said the Keep It Fringe fund, launched by a donation from Phoebe Waller-Bridge in 2023, was 'biased'. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The fund, which has distributed £1 million to UK-based artists at the festival, has since been supported by a UK government grant. Mr Buckley Hill wrote: 'The custom and rule of the Edinburgh Fringe was: if you can get a venue, you can perform at the Fringe. The Fringe Office had no role in the selection of who performed and who did not. That was the venue providers' job. 'The playing field was never level: money always talks. But the principle of a Fringe is to keep the field as level as possible. You can bring your show. Once you have a venue, you're equal. Only the public can judge you. But this has changed since Covid.' Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad He added: 'If Show X gets a £2,000 grant and you do not, you are at a big disadvantage. Even before you start. It's biased against you and somebody has made that judgement. Street performers entertain the crowds on the Royal Mile during the Fringe. Picture: Jane Barlow 'The Fringe Office was not put in place to discriminate in favour of one show and against another. It doesn't have the mandate and it doesn't have the expertise.' The Fringe Society said funders would be 'very unlikely to support investment without criteria' and that limiting its ability to distribute funding would lead to 'greater inequality'. The statement said: 'The Fringe Society's aim is to ensure limited funding for culture is directed to the Fringe by any means possible, and for the Fringe Society to use its fundraising skills and capacity to support all artists and venues who take part.' Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The body added: 'The Fringe Society acts, in all these instances, as an impartial, arms-length administrator of the available grants. In each case it puts in place rigorous principles, signed off by the relevant funder, to ensure that the society itself is not making artistic or other subjective assessments of requests for support.'
Telegraph
3 days ago
- Telegraph
Fleabag was a work of genius, but it has cursed theatre for a decade
Fleabag made Phoebe Waller-Bridge famous (and rich) and became a byword for a type of zeitgeisty dark comedy that explored the complexities facing women today. There was direct-to-camera honesty, outrageously dark humour, uninhibited sex – and the gradual seeping realisation of a painful back story. The fact that Fleabag began as a solo show in the lairs of Edinburgh's Underbelly venue 12 years ago (to become, in 2016, an award-winning BBC series) and still remains a touchstone, confirms its rare genius. Equally, you could argue that it has become a millstone. Given Waller-Bridge's fitful output since, it has clearly been a huge pressure to live up to. And it might even be said to have held back the new writing scene more broadly. Is it mad to label Fleabag a curse? I think not. Every year at the Edinburgh Fringe one question haunts the air: 'Has the new Fleabag been found?' In terms of the festival itself, it distorts our attention, creating an ongoing sense of people pointing to the future while looking in the rear-view mirror. This year, the 'new Fleabag' has apparently been found at the Pleasance. With rave reviews behind her, Eat the Rich… by Jade Franks, a monologue about the working-class Liverpudlian's encounters with her well-heeled peers at Cambridge, has been framed by some in the media as another comic solo set to become a phenomenon in its own right, with TV scouts apparently flocking. Good luck to her. Wouldn't it be better, though, for Eat the Rich… to make waves on its own, without reference to a work which, for all its virtues, reflects Waller-Bridge's more privileged upbringing? I suppose I've been as guilty as anyone of getting into that Fleabag-centric frame of mind once I've started pounding the Edinburgh pavements in search of new talent. Fringe marketing often tries to hook you in with the Fleabag-tag. 'Think Gloria Swanson meets Fleabag at a wake', runs the blurb for a solo about a fallen icon, Stardust, at Underbelly this year. Two years ago, Sit or Kneel (now poised for a London run) was described as 'Fleabag meets The Vicar of Dibley'. Even more self-referential is S--tbag, at Summerhall, by Hayley Edwards, a 'young genderqueer person' from Australia. It details their unbridled sexual encounters spurred on by a diagnosis of Crohn's disease and the prospect of becoming undesirable. 'I have just f----d someone with a blue tick on Instagram,' we're told at the start, Edwards all flirtatious, fourth-wall-busting complicity. It's likeable, accomplished and interesting but its knowingness compartmentalises it as a stylish in-joke: 'There are too many people trying to rewrite Fleabag and I f-----g agree!' There is also Babyfleareindeerbag, a work-in-progress by Hannah Maxwell, which acknowledges Waller-Bridge's succès d'estime and that other Edinburgh breakout hit, Richard Gadd's Baby Reindeer, which subsequently ended up on Netflix. When it looks as though someone has kicked open a door, and discovered a new idiom, of course others are bound to follow suit. After Jez Butterworth stunned everyone with Jerusalem, the numbers of scripts flying around with rustic settings shot up. Sometimes, one voice helps theatre achieve a rock 'n' roll energy, and everyone wants to be part of the movement. It's not just a theatre problem. Television is particularly susceptible to following trends. The success of Game of Thrones spawned a number of inferior sequels such as The Last Kingdom and The Wheel of Time. The recent-ish rage for game show The Traitors begat Destination X and forthcoming Gary Lineker-vehicle The Box. None of these Johnny-come-latelys will maintain the lasting power of the originals. Its spurring TV success aside, sure, Fleabag on stage did achieve a galvanic effect – de-compartmentalising comedy and 'serious' drama and re-asserting the monologue as a pure form. Solo work has flourished in its wake – whether that's Dennis Kelly's Girls and Boys (2018), which saw Carey Mulligan shine as a woman recounting a marriage that ended horrifically, or Prima Facie, Suzie Miller's law and consent drama, given shape-shifting force by Jodie Comer. Likewise, it seems to have emboldened rising newcomer Jack Holden to go it alone and conjure gay Eighties Soho and small-town Missouri in his hits Cruising and Kenrex. The fact is that the financial challenge of staging work at the moment (what with an arts funding squeeze and high production costs) means that a stripped-back work in the style of Fleabag remains very appealing. Perhaps we can't easily go back to an expansive world – pre-Fleabag – where the likes of Laura Wade embodied Oxbridge at its most sprawlingly obnoxious in Posh, or Lucy Kirkwood conjured an epic geopolitical thriller with Chimerica. But we should mourn the work that maybe isn't getting done, recognise that the Fleabag vogue may have settled theatre into a narrower groove, and urge the scene to shift again. In 1956, the Royal Court made its mark with John Osborne's Look Back in Anger but then had to move past the 'angry young man' moment it spawned to endure – a reminder of the need to keep innovating, and surprising people. After a bad patch, it's battling to matter again; and that's true of the sector too. Ultimately, no great art ever came from following a trend – and Fleabag is no exception. Let's consign it to history. It's time to start thinking outside the box.
